


We Will Stand Tall

by SebastianDragon



Series: Up on the Line [1]
Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebastianDragon/pseuds/SebastianDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story which tells how Matt first started bringing the Berserkers 'all the best stuff' and who taught Matt how to blow shit up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Stand Tall

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a line from Adele's song "Skyfall".

Day 1.

Pope shifted, trying hard to get warmer while sitting in the drizzling rain without anything that could resemble a roof above his head.

Damn Weaver, damn Tom, damn Peralta. Of course, they had their warm offices deep in Charleston, so why on Earth would they be interested in providing their soldiers a dry place on the frontline?

“Stop doing that, Pope,” Lee chuckled.

She was in no better position than himself, sitting on cold stones with an M16 in her hands, while rain continued streaming down what was left of the walls of the house these ruins had once been and gathering in puddles on the floor.

John grinned lazily and shifted once more in a fruitless attempt to hide from the rain.

“Doing what, ma’am?”

“Cursing everyone in your head,” Lee replied.

At that Tector decided to turn to her with a huge smirk on his face.

“Oh, he likes that too much, you won’t be able to stop him”.

Pope rolled his eyes. Sometimes his team acted like children and he could do absolutely nothing about it.

“Fuck off, people, I’m trying to stay on high alert”.

When silence fell, John almost wished to take his words back, because the only sound being that of the rain was too depressing.

Only it wasn’t the only sound. Somebody’s swift footsteps were coming nearer from the friendly direction, but Pope didn’t care much which direction it was and raised his shotgun.

One never knows where the enemy might come from.

“Hey it’s me, it’s Matt!” a child’s voice called and indeed Tom Mason’s son appeared among the ruins of the Berserkers coverage.

God damn this day, as if rain was not enough.

“Run along, buddy, your daddy won’t be pleased to find ye here,” Pope gave him a nasty smile. “In fact, he’ll be pissed off on you, on me and on my crew”.

“He won’t,” said Matt in such a confident tone that John immediately understood that the boy isn’t going to ‘fuck off” of him like the Berserkers could.

Fuck stupid children.

“In fact,” Matt continued, “I’m here for a reason”.

Lee gave Pope a strange stare, which could be interpreted in both “da fuck is he doing here?” and “he’s nice, let him play along, you moron”.

As he couldn’t get which of those two she meant he decided to ignore it.

“Right,” Pope passed a hand through his wet hair, “you’re here to catch pneumonia and relieve everyone from having to look after you, yeah?”

Matt gave him an offended look and already opened his mouth when Lee interfered. She smiled at the kid and putting her rifle aside gestured at Pope.

“Don’t get upset because of him, he’s just cold and therefore gets off on everyone”.

Oh, so it was the ‘let the kid play you moron’ one. How nice.

“Craze, we’re here for a reason, rain or not, and I’m not going to stand some kids running here even if these kids are Mason’s golden princes. So…” John started.

But Matt suddenly grinned widely and not waiting for him to end the sentence put his backpack on the ground and opening it started unpacking something.

“In fact, I’ve brought hot tea and a bucket of fresh strawberries, but if you don’t want them, Pope, I’ll give them all to Lee and Tector,” Matt said, “and you can cook yourself strawberries afterwards”.

With that he in fact produced a thermos and a wrapped up bucket of big red berries.

Lee burst out with laughter and closing her face with her hands all she could manage was an amused “oh, kid”.

Tector quirked an eyebrow at Matt and it seemed to have mumbled something like “gonna have nightmares of Pope cooking strawberries”.

“Here,” Matt picked out a strawberry and tossed it to Pope who was left with no other option than to catch it, “believe me, they are really tasty”.

Damn this kid. Why would he be so fucking nice to him?

John gave the strawberry a long glance trying to figure out if it would seem like he had lost a fight to the kid if he ate it.

Meanwhile Lee sniffed the berry, turned to Tector to show her excitement about the scent, then took a bite and…

“Heavens, I haven’t eaten something this tasty since the invasion!” she exclaimed and turning back to Matt nearly beamed at him. “Thank you, Matt, this is some really good stuff”.

The little Mason’s face lightened up in a wide smile.

“Knew you’d like it!”

“It is the best”.

“Yep?” Tector reached out from his position to pick up a berry himself. “Oh Lord, Matt, this is awesome!”

God damn this again, Pope thought and finally ate the strawberry.

He wanted to say something bad about the taste, the color, even the shape – anything that would have driven the kid out of here – but the fucking berry seemed to be perfect in all ways.

And truth to be told, it was tasty. As Lee had said, far tastier than anything since the invasion.

Strangely, but the strawberry’s juice seemed… alive. Like a memory of those times when Pope lived – truly lived, not simply existed. When he had been together with his family – before prison, before the assault, before everything.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Matt’s voice sounded and only when Pope had lifted his head he understood that the boy was talking to him. “I can read it on your face”.

John rolled his eyes and turned away.

***

Day 2.

“Hey!”

“Hey, Matt!” Lee answered. Tector simply waved his hand at the boy and smiled warmly.

Pope said nothing, pretending that he was too engulfed in the process of checking his revolver.

“I know it’s not strawberries, but it’s apples today. Is anyone not fond of apples?”

John looked up on Matt from beneath the strands of his hair. Masons, they were all crazy. Crazier than Lee. Absolutely insane.

But this particular Mason was more than just insane. He was also even more unbearable than his goddamned father.

If Pope had talked to him nicely two years ago, it didn’t mean that he was ever going to do it again. He had had enough of it.

***

Day 6.

It was raining again. The lead clouds hung low in the sky and the water was blown into the Berserkers coverage from all angles due to the gusting wind.

Today was another day of Pope’s misery, because he was sitting there alone. Weaver had ordered Lee to join Lyle and Hal this morning and Tector was having his day-off, so Pope ended up in his own company.

Not that he would have protested much about being alone.

It was that the Mason kid was definitely going to come here again today that kept Pope in a gloomy mood.

When Matt had finally arrived, John started talking at once:

“Look here, kid, I’m not having problems with you today. Lee is with Hal and Tector is home, so if you want to see them, you know now where to find him”.

Another gust of wind showered them both with icy water, but Pope didn’t even move. The Mason, to his credit, didn’t either.

“I’m not a kid,” Matt replied sharply, his cute little face now darkened with it seemed anger and disappointment. “Not anymore, at least”.

He was not a kid indeed, Pope should give him that.

“Alright, little man, is this better?” he grumbled. “Run along, I’m trying to work here”.

Matt continued standing in what had been the doorway for a few seconds and then suddenly sat down on the cold stones.

“Nope, I’m not going. If I’m here for you to grumble at, then perhaps you won’t feel the cold and rain that much”.

Pope blinked. Then blinked again and stared at the Mason. The ‘little man’ gave him his most confident stare in return.

What. The. Fuck.

What the fuck is he supposed to answer to that?

Matt was still looking at him and John turned away. The last thing he needed on this Earth was ten-year-olds to stir his conscience.

He didn’t need company. He was too used to having no company. The Berserkers, they were free. They followed his command but they were free to leave him at any time.

He certainly didn’t need anyone to start caring about.

Yet this kid was sitting on the cold stones under the pouring rain and waiting for Pope to get off on him his bad mood.

“Stop being Jesus Christ and come over here, if you’re not going to leave,” John finally murmured and gestured to the empty space beside himself. He thought for a second and with a mean smirk added. “I don’t want your Dad and Weaver tearing my head off because of you catching cold here”.

Matt snorted and padded over to sit were offered.

Damn, the kid was smart. Probably took it from his father.

The named kid meanwhile shifted closer to Pope, trying to hide behind him from the wind. He lifted his head and squinted against the drops of rain.

“Why are you always trying to be mean to me?”.

For this John had no answer.

Well, he had, but he couldn’t spill it out to a ten-year-old.

“Is it because you don’t want to care?” Matt shifted even closer and was now nearly pressing himself to Pope’s side. “Or because you’re tired of caring?”

Damn, the kid was too smart.

John wanted to move away but at the last moment stopped himself from acting like a child.

“Did you have any kids?” Matt continued his questioning.

Pope sighed.

“Look, little man, I don’t want to talk much right now, alright?”

At that Matt hung his head. His next words were more like a whisper, but sitting so close to him Pope heard them.

“You had”.

John glanced down at the Mason. Deep inside, the long forgotten pity rose and made him want to pat Matt’s hair, to even hug him, so that this brave little warrior wouldn’t feel like that – alone and abandoned. It was not right, children were never meant to feel like that.

Except Matt was right, he wasn’t a child any longer. He was a man, a war-made man who had to grow up being only ten years old.

Gosh, this boy was making him get soft.

Pope sighed again and lifting his arm actually put it around Matt’s shoulders. To his own great surprise the boy didn’t give him an astonished look and leaned into him instead, clutching at his leather jacket with his fingers.

The rain continued pouring down, but now Pope felt at some strange stage of piece. It was a long forgotten feeling as well, and though John would have liked it to last longer, he was in a place that paid with death to those who allowed themselves relax.

“Okay, little man, lets continue our watch.”

“Okay,” Matt released his jacket and looking into Pope’s eyes added. “I’m sorry for acting like a kid”.

Usually Pope would have only smirked, yet now his mind travelled yet again to the theme of kids having to grow up this fast, to never have a proper childhood.

In the back of his conscience he wondered if his son and daughter were warring somewhere in Florida these days, or if they were already dead, or even worse – harnessed.

A particularly evil gust of wind thankfully tore Pope out of the last thought.

“Hey Pope…” Matt pronounced in a whisper.

John immediately retrieved his arm from around the boy’s shoulders having thought that this was the reason for Matt to say something.

“Can you…” Matt still continued, “can you teach me how to blow up stuff?”

Pope quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Wow, little man, and what do you need that for?”

“A proper soldier knows how to blow up a Mech or how to create an escape route through a wall,” the Mason answered confidently.

Pope considered that.

“Please?” Matt quietly added. “I promise I won’t be nasty to you like the last time”.

John had to turn away from him to hide a smile before replying: “Yes, I can teach you that”.

Matt beamed.

“Thank you!”

“Wow, not that fast. You need to promise me that your Dad and dear ol’ Captain – Colonel, pardon me deeply – will know nothing ‘bout this. My head is still too precious to me to risk it being fed to the Skitters”.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise. I want mine to remain on my neck as well”.

“Deal”.


End file.
